The Falafel war

An airplane ride has a different meaning for Arabic-speaking people these days. I was advised not to bring anything metal or ethnic on the plane. I politely declined the airline’s special “helal meal” for Muslims, which includes no pork products. My wife warned me repeatedly that I’d be the target of a “random” search. However, the flight went off without a hitch and I had the good fortune of sitting next to a young Israeli man who seemed polite and cautious; we avoided each other for a few thousand miles until I started playing an Arab movie on my laptop. It could be dangerous nowadays to show any Arabic leanings or artifacts, especially on airplanes. 
When we finally started talking, I was surprised that, for the most part, we agreed on lots of things; we weren’t in the usual combative argumentative mode that for years has dominated the Israeli/Palestinian debate. We agreed that, yes, the Jews had gotten a rotten deal in history and they deserved a break, but somehow now the Palestinians were victims of those very same Holocaust victims. We also talked about our families, living in the US, and the Super Bowl; then the subject changed to food, and the fact that he liked the Jewish falafel. This is when the argument ensued.


I was puzzled that Falafel would be associated with a religion. All I know is that Falafel is a regional food, specifically Mediterranean food, made by all the people who live around the sea. You might compare it to spaghetti, which is an Italian food, not a Catholic food; or ouzo is a Greek drink and not an Orthodox Christian drink. So if you were a Jew who happened to lived in the Mediterranean area and you made and ate Falafel, Falafel is still a Mediterranean food, not a Jewish food. A rabbi was asked online what do bagels, lox, pastrami, falafel, garlic pickles, kishka, and kasha have to do with being a Jew. Here is the answer posted online: Those are foods popular in some cultures in which Jews lived, but have zero religious significance.

Everyone in the Middle East claims authenticity of their Falafel. Now the Israelis have joined the Falafel fray. Of course, some Jews vehemently argue that everything a Jew does or says is inherently Jewish. Welcome to the Falafel war in the Middle East, as this topic of conversation triggered our reflexive defense mechanisms to the next gear.

Arabs think Falafel originated thousands of years ago on the banks of the Mediterranean, and as Min Liao’s stated in his online piece “Middle East Crisis”, “Israelis say that ancient Jews ate falafel in Egypt and Syria, and tourist brochures proclaim falafel to be “Israel’s national snack”. Upon hearing this, Arabic-speaking people feel as if an important cultural recipe has been stolen and insist on falafel’s romantic Arab roots”.

For Egyptians, who have their own claim on Falafel, the spicy little fried balls have to be made from “Foul” (fava beans not chickpeas like many falafel “wannabes). You could say that Falafel is the most democratic food in Egypt; it is eaten daily on the street by people of all socio-economic classes. It is for most Egyptians like the armor for the American Marines, shielding them from the realities of a harsh daily life; or from any culinary assault, like the one on that flight to Egypt. “Hey, here is the deal, my Israeli friends; you can claim all the Arab land you want but you can’t claim my beloved Falafel!” “Let my Falafel go.”

Ahmed Tharwat
Producer and Host of the Arab American TV show Belahdan
Airs Sundays on public TV tpt

 

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The power of cheese

Arab Americans in tough times would seek comfort and refuge in the warmness of their ethnic foods. As their nomad ancestors had done for hundreds of years before them; carrying their food wherever they go would save them from the harsh inhospitable desert terrain. Uh… the frying sizzling of falafel, the richness aroma of shaworma (Gyro), the tanning smoothness of BABA GHANNOU and Hummus, the beauty of artfully display of meza and the heavy sweetness of Baklava all take us back to the comfort and security of our home. But no other Middle Eastern food reflects our ethnicity and identity as feta cheese; we have as many different kind of feta cheese as nationalities; Egyptian, Greek, Lebanese, Moroccan, and Palestinian and we try them all. So if you want to measure the Arab American melting pot index in the US, don’t look at the employment or housing index, you should look at the consumption of feta index and it ratio to the consumption of American cheese. Americans seems to treat cheese as dead food that is wrapped in plastic bags and kept in the refrigerator like corpses. Arabs treat cheese like fresh meat that should be cut before your eyes and kept in the open for everyone to see and smell. Second generation Arab American children; however, lose this reverence right after their first trip to MacDonald’s restaurant and experience the taste of the melted cheese in their happy meal. Early on, feta cheese proudly accepted its prominent culinary status in our house. Every morning at breakfast table I prepare for my daughter the Egyptian breakfast trio, feta cheese, pita bread and black olives. My daughter had enjoyed eating it as much as listening to my Egyptian boy stories. “Tell me a story when you are little boy” she always asked me playfully. Now I have to quietly sneak my feta in her breakfast sandwich under the cover American cheese, which is perfectly fine with me. I understand her feelings. When I was a youngster growing up in an Egyptian village in the 60’s, our school used to get American aid in the form of a big block of wrapped cheese. I was so fascinated when for the first time I experienced cheese that was different in test and color, not to mention its beautiful glossy plastic wraps. Under protest from my resentful parents, I deserted my ethnic feta cheese and in its place I demanded the colorful American cheese which was as flashy as America movies. Rejecting your native feta is like rejecting your identity; here went the villager’s attitude.My wife and I are now very careful about bringing this ethnic culinary warfare to our family breakfast table. To reinforce our daughter’s ethnicity and multicultural heritage; American cheese and feta cheese will peacefully coexist on our breakfast table along with the cereals. However, lately and in the mist of post 9/11 and the war on Iraq headlines, the situation at our household has gotten a little edgy and our homeland security alarm system could reach color red in a hurry. Then one cheese will be ethnically cleansed from our breakfast table, “It smells bad and too sheepish,” my wife has started protesting loudly, declaring this chemical warfare and humiliating my beloved feta would trigger my defense sequence and the American cheese would become the infidel’s cheese. My daughter who never was interested in this type of table manner, would quietly walk away with her cereal, to the basement, better known now in our household as the bunker.Ahmed Tharwat 12/20/04 Multicultural Marketing Consultant

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